Yesterday, I brought Mabel in from the front porch. The 1920’s work table has already seen the best days of her life. It’s a pretty lofty accomplishment for an old, no body table to serve tea to the President of the United States! Gonna be hard to top that . . . .
The weather had done just what I’d hoped for. Mabel’s whitewashed finish was flaking, and you could finally see the original butter cream paint peeking through. We turned her upside down on the kitchen table so I could get a better look at her peeling parts. Two old mud dauber nests were wedged securely inside one corner. I tapped the bottom of the service drawer, and a brave, sleepy fly roused awake and flew to the window.
There’s one thing I like about old things – you CAN actually work on them! Back in the day, everything was bolted or screwed; not a rivet to be found. As I removed her gently turned legs, I could see that someone had loved Mabel before. I wanted to believe that. Didn’t matter that she’d been mass produced and run through a small assembly line eighty some years ago. No, Mabel was special. This old girl had served some family well during the depression years. Times being what they are . . . seems fitting she should go into service once more.
I got out the hand sander and a pan of hot, soapy water and got to work. Mabel’s arthritic parts squeak a bit, her drawer bottom sags a little too. But I’m happy she’s mine. I know she’s gonna be just fine here . . . .
Rural Woman here . . .
PS: Mabel’s new home is in the bathroom, serving as a dressing table!
